


The Grey Mages

by kiyala



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Familiars, Inception Reverse Big Bang, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where magic is common, Dom Cobb is a shadow of the man he used to be. Once a talented grey mage, he is now haunted by the Shade of his wife, who died in a magical experiment gone terribly wrong. He seeks a way to lay the Shade to rest, but he can't do it alone. Arthur, Mal's protege, is always a step behind Dom, making sure they stay alive, making sure the Shade doesn't overwhelm his friend, hoping that someday, he can go home to his own other half, Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grey Mages

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Inception Reverse Big Bang, as a companion piece to the wonderful art by [aya_no_hako](aya-no-hako.livejournal.com/). (Link to artwork TBA)
> 
> A huge, huge thank you to Mizzy, who beta-read this for me. ♥

“Arthur, won’t you come to bed?”

It’s been a long week. Arthur can’t even remember the last time he slept, or the last time he’s been able to rest for more than a handful of hours at a time before having to run again.

“You look so lonely, my darling. Surely you’d rather be here with me.”

His life is an absolute mess and he can’t even bring himself to blame Dom and his damn Shade when he’s the one who signed up for all of this. Sure, he’d signed up for it _before_ everything went to hell and the Shade showed up, but Arthur had made a promise to stand by Dom. Arthur keeps his promises.

“Do you remember how we were like before? When we did everything together? We were inseparable, Arthur. You could be with me right now, and you know that. You could leave Cobb, and come back to me.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Arthur sighs loudly.

Now, on top of everything, he’s hallucinating. He doesn’t want to look, but the painfully familiar voice has been following him for hours now, and Arthur might be strong-willed but even he’s not that strong.

Eames is reclining in the bed shoved into the corner of the motel room. It even sags under his imaginary weight, and the moment Arthur looks, his heart hurts with how much he misses the real thing.

A dog’s whimper captures Arthur’s attention and he grimaces, placing a hand on his familiar’s head. Ciaran, his black German Shepherd, has been with Arthur since the development of his magic abilities. Every mage needs a familiar; it helps tie them to nature so that their magic flows easier. Familiars are an extension of their own souls.

From the very first moment Ciaran had met Zephyr—Eames’ Golden Retriever—the two had been inseparable. It had taken longer for their owners to get along, but it was an inevitability, as much as they both tried to deny it. Through their familiars, part of their souls had already chosen each other. It was only a matter of time before the rest followed.

He might be able to hallucinate Eames, but familiars are highly individual. You can know a person better than anybody else in the world, but not their animal. He cannot hallucinate Zephyr, and Ciaran misses him as much as Arthur misses Eames.

He can tell, just by looking at the phantom Eames, that this particular hallucination has magic in it. If it was just a result of him being tired, it would be blurry around the edges, but this one is solid. It means that Arthur is so tired that his magic is bleeding into the environment around him. If it were just his grey magic, there would be no cause for concern. Arthur’s been using grey magic for almost all his life and controlling it comes as easily as breathing. But ever since the accident, ever since he’s started running from job to job with Dom, things have changed.

It was Arthur’s choice to dabble in black magic. He’ll never pin that on Dom, even if Eames does. With the black magic he is learning now he’s able to control the Shade, just enough to keep everything manageable. If he can master the more complicated aspects of black magic, he might even be able to banish the Shade that haunts Dom. He might be able to go home. But he’s far from mastery now and his lack of control combined with his lack of sleep results in… this.

“Do you still love me?” Eames asks, from the bed. He smiles, in that soft way he’s always reserved for Arthur alone. “Or was that a lie? You said you’d be home by now.”

Arthur suppresses the surge of guilt and doesn’t reply.

“Please, Arthur.” Eames reaches out to him, and this is exactly why Arthur had resisted the urge to look for hours on end. Once he looks, it’s difficult to resist.

Ciaran whines under his breath, clearly unhappy and Arthur murmurs something vaguely comforting in response, even as he steps towards his phantom Eames. His own hand reaches for Eames’, but touching a hallucination is like trying to plait fog. Arthur’s fingers close around nothing, his head goes through Eames’ shoulder, until it touches the pillow beneath.

“I hate this,” Arthur murmurs, forcing himself to wake up enough to regain control of his magic. He waves his hand and Eames dissipates like smoke, leaving only Arthur behind, lonely and discontented.

Ciaran pushes his face into Arthur’s hand, watching him with sad eyes. Arthur can’t talk to Dom about this, not when he’s dealing with his own problems, all of them far worse than any complaint that Arthur has. Not bothering to change out of his suit, Arthur curls up on his side and pats the mattress beside him to call Ciaran onto it.

They need to move again, and soon. Arthur’s managed to get them out of the direct range of their latest disappointed associate, but they’ll be safe for half a day at best. The game they’re playing is a risky one; Dom was once an extremely well-known mage and his name can still get them clients, but the Shade is determined to make sure he fails. Each job they do runs the risk of being disrupted and while they get lucky often enough to gain money and power, they also fail often enough that they’ve already amassed plenty of enemies with just as much money and just as much power, if not more.

Arthur figures that perhaps he’ll get three hours of sleep. Four, if he’s lucky, but anything’s better than none. He needs some rest, he needs to regain enough control to keep his magic in check, and he’ll worry about everything else later.

For now, he won’t ask for anything more than sleep.

«·»

Arthur wakes, just under three hours later, when the sun is still down and the night’s chill hangs in the air. Dom is already awake.

Arthur doesn’t know if Dom ever sleeps, doesn’t even know if he _can_. Ciaran is still half-asleep, and Arthur hangs back in the doorway, watching Dom sit in front of the fireplace. The flames cast dancing shadows on the opposite wall, and there’s something vaguely sinister about the shadow of the crow perched on Dom’s shoulder.

Emilie had been Mal’s familiar, when she was alive. Dom had an owl named Amadeus, but that was before the accident happened. Now all that is left are memories. Ghosts. Gaping holes where everything Dom has ever loved has been torn away from him.

“I thought I heard Eames earlier,” Dom says without turning in Arthur’s direction. His tone is casual, but Arthur knows him well enough to hear the accusation in his words.

“I’ll start apologising when your wife’s Shade stops trying to kill me,” Arthur replies, folding his arms across his chest. “You realise you’d probably have some proper control over it if you get some sleep? Some _actual_ sleep, not whatever you call this weird, broody state.”

Dom grimaces. “I think I liked you better when you were still young and eager to please.”

Arthur personally preferred Dom when he was still sane and happy, not haunted and desperate. He keeps the thought to himself.

The two of them had met in college; the Miles Institute of Grey Magic is one of the most prestigious schools out there for grey mages and it’s where Arthur had met Eames, too.

Dom and Mal, who had been dating back then, were mentors. Arthur and Eames, the brightest students from their grade, had been paired up with them to further develop their skills. Back then, Arthur and Eames could barely stand each other. Mal, as Arthur’s mentor and Dom, as Eames’, had given them little choice but to spend most of their time together.

Everything good in Arthur’s life is due to Dom and Mal. It’s the least he can do to help Dom with this.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dom begins, and Arthur immediately braces himself for a particularly bad idea, “I think it’s time we took a few more dreaming jobs.”

Arthur stares in disbelief. “Are you kidding? The last time we went into a dream, Mal—”

“I know,” Dom cuts him off and sighs heavily. “It won’t happen again. I’ve got it under control.”

He really doesn’t, and it’s plain to see. When Arthur doesn’t reply, Dom looks up at him helplessly.

“I’m running out of options, Arthur. You’ve seen how it is. The white mages turn and run in the opposite direction before I even get a word out. I have to find an exorcist before this completely ruins me and for that, I’m going to need money. The only way I can make any money right now is by dreaming.”

Arthur scowls. “I don’t understand why you think _dreaming_ is the solution, here.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Dom asks, like he doesn’t know.

Dreaming is the whole reason that Mal is dead in the first place.

One of the several things the Miles Institute is famous for is the fact that it is constantly coming up with new applications for grey magic. Mal, the daughter of the Headmaster, had pioneered dream magic with Dom. It had started with dreamwalking; entering each other’s dreams and then allowing them to run their natural course. Then Mal had discovered how to create a dreamscape that they could share, building it up into almost anything they wanted. Then she’d found that she could create dreams within dreams and in her hunger for more knowledge, she’d forgotten her own limits.

The day that Mal had died, she had been dreaming with Dom. Even with the two of them, they’d gone far beyond the limits of their magic and results were catastrophic. Mal’s mind had been destroyed from the inside out; she was torn apart by her own madness and died slowly and painfully in front of Dom. He survived only because Amadeus took the magical recoil for him instead. The owl died instantly and now, there’s only Dom and Emilie, sticking together because it’s the closest either of them have to their missing halves.

Dom turns, rising to his feet. Perched on his shoulder, Emilie clicks her beak. Neither of them look particularly happy.

“You wanna explain yourself, Arthur? Maybe you can come up with a plan this time. You can find out how hard it is to keep things running smoothly and make sure that we all get out of it alive.”

Dom doesn’t realise that this is what Arthur’s been doing this entire time. He keeps an eye out for when clients are going to turn rogue; usually around the same time that the Shade comes barging in and everything stops going according to Dom’s plans. Arthur is the one who lays down the contingencies, who takes charge when chaos erupts.

Dom thinks that Arthur projects Eames whenever he’s lonely and has never been disabused of this notion. He has no idea that Arthur practices black magic, or that he uses it to bind the Shade. When Dom thinks that he’s successfully managed to control the Shade and keep it at bay, it’s usually Arthur’s doing.

It’s yet another topic of disagreement between Arthur and Eames. The list tends to go on, but this is close to the top. Eames doesn’t want anything to do with Dom any more, and resents the fact that Arthur will follow him anywhere.

“We need to get moving,” Arthur says, instead of replying. Ciaran has woken up now and is evidently displeased to see both Dom and Emilie standing against Arthur. His familiar has grown more protective of him lately; clearly when Eames had told him to take good care of Arthur before they’d parted ways, Ciaran had taken it very seriously. “If you want, we’ll start looking for dreaming jobs once we’re out of here. Cobol’s unhappy with us as it is and we need to be gone before they find us.”

“Right,” Dom says, snapping back to himself. Failed jobs are serious things; dissatisfied clients and angry marks are terrible on their own, but much worse when combined.

This job, a simple information-gathering gig on a powerful businessman, should have been easy. And it would have been, had Mal’s Shade not tipped Saito off to exactly what they were doing. Both Cobol and Saito have the resources to fund a private army each, and Arthur does not want to know what it’s like to be caught between them.

They pack their bags quickly—they’ve both learned how to travel with only the bare minimum—and with one final sweep of the motel room, they leave.

They only get as far as the motel’s parking lot before stopping in their tracks.

Leaning against the hood of their rental car is none other than Saito himself. He looks the way Arthur had learned that he always does when things are playing out according to plan; smug and completely at ease with his surroundings, wherever he happens to be.

“Mr. Cobb. I knew I would find you here.”

Dom frowns at Arthur, who is mentally running over all the things he did to cover their tracks, to see what went wrong.

“I met your… wife, I believe,” Saito says, walking towards them. “She told me you would be difficult to track down and she was right. Luckily, she told me exactly which motel you would end up staying at.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to glare at Dom before looking back at Saito. “That wasn’t actually Mrs. Cobb you spoke to.”

“Oh, I know that Mr. Wolff.” Saito smirks. “I know everything I need to know about the two of you.”

Ciaran, who had remained silent until now, begins to growl. The first thing Arthur had noticed about Saito, back when they were just beginning their surveillance, is the fact that Saito doesn’t have a familiar. He has no magic, and when it comes down to it, one man has no chance against two mages. Even if one of them is as unstable as Dom.

“What do you want?” Arthur asks, stepping forward and gesturing for Ciaran to stay. “If you wanted us dead, I’m pretty sure that we’d be dead by now, so it’s not that. What is it?”

Saito chuckles. “Straight to the point with you, Mr. Wolff. I expected no different.”

In response, Arthur simply raises an eyebrow and waits for a proper answer.

“I know who you are, Mr. Cobb. I have heard about your talents with magic. With dreams.”

Dom stands a little straighter, his attention clearly captured. Arthur watches on warily.

“I have a job for you,” Saito continues. “I do not promise it will be easy, but I _can_ promise that if you are successful… you will have the one thing you desire most.”

Dom laughs hollowly, shaking his head. “You can’t give me that. No one can.”

“I cannot bring your wife back,” Saito allows with a small nod. “But you are seeking an exorcist who will lay her Shade to rest.”

“They’re extremely difficult to come by, Mr. Saito.”

“Trust me, I would know.”

“I have the resources to find them,” Saito replies with the easy confidence of one who gets whatever they want. “And the money to buy their services.”

Dom narrows his eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“We’ll just say that I am particularly invested in making sure you will do this, and that you will do it correctly.”

Arthur rocks back on his heels, unwilling to stand around in the open like this, when Saito could easily be stalling before they are surrounded. Saito must pick up on his restlessness because he smiles, folding his arms.

“I’ll give you a simple choice, Mr. Cobb. I can leave you here, to the mercies of Cobol once they catch up with you—and then _will_ —or you can accept this job and I will settle your debt with Cobol and provide you with the opportunity to become free of your wife’s Shade.”

“You haven’t even told us what the job is,” Arthur points out, frowning.

“Even so,” Saito shrugs. “Your options remain the same.”

“And you’re giving me the option to walk away if I want to?” Dom asks. “I can deal with Cobol on my own.”

“You can,” Saito agrees, inclining his head. “But you will never find another offer like this again. You may never have the opportunity to find an exorcist.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Arthur mutters. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Actually,” Dom replies, looking at Saito. “I think I do.”

«·»

The job, as Saito tells them later, is to find a way to convince Robert Fischer—the soon-to-be CEO of a giant business conglomerate—to merge with his own company, Proclus Global.

“You want me to plant an idea in his mind,” Dom says, sounding furious. “Do you even know what you’re asking?”

Arthur stands by the window of the new hotel suite they’ve checked into, with Ciaran sitting beside him. When Dom and Mal had gone too far that one time, they’d been exploring the same concept; planting a suggestion in someone’s mind so that it would organically develop into an entire idea.

Fischer’s father has recently died and Saito is eager to make his move. Arthur suspects that there are personal motivations behind this too. He’s noticed that Saito’s voice softens, and that he gets a distant look in his eyes when he mentions Robert. Arthur doesn’t push, because he knows that Saito won’t explain himself anyway.

“I believe that you will know to be careful,” Saito says calmly. “Surely you know the importance of learning from your mistakes.”

Arthur winces, leaning over to scratch behind Ciaran’s ears to distract himself from seeing Cobb’s reaction to that.

There will be a lot of work required for this job and most of it will be Arthur’s, making sure that the Shade won’t cause any trouble. There will be ample opportunities for it and Arthur already knows just how important it is to get this job done properly. Not just for Cobb’s sake either; Saito is a powerful man and a very terrible enemy to make.

They’re lucky enough that it didn’t happen the first time, but Arthur doubts that they will be able to walk away from another failed job. He already has the details required for what needs to be done, so he leaves Saito and Cobb to discuss the finer details while he plans the job itself.

They’d agreed a while ago that it’s best that Dom knows as little about the jobs as possible; nothing more than what he needs to do and how it connects with the others’ jobs. The rest falls on Arthur and he honestly doesn’t mind when it means that he can make sure that they get out of everything alive.

There’s one thing that Arthur knows for certain with this job so far, and that is the fact that they will need a skilled team. The best place to go for that is the Miles Institute of Grey Magic.

“What do you think?” Arthur asks Ciaran. “About time we went home, right?”

 

«·»

The moment Arthur walks through the large, ornate gates of the Miles Institute, he’s greeted with a loud bark. There’s a golden retriever running straight at him and Arthur grins, stepping aside.

Ciaran runs forward with an answering bark and the two dogs circle around each other excitedly, tails wagging.

“Good to see you too, Zephyr,” Arthur pets both dogs when he reaches them. “You two stay out of trouble, now.”

Without waiting for Dom and Saito to catch up, Arthur walks into the main building. The halls are comfortingly familiar and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, as if days have passed since the last time he’s been here, instead of months.

As much as he’d _like_ to pretend that none of the past few months have happened, that Mal and Dom are both happy and alive, just up the main staircase and down to the right, he knows better. He sighs, squaring his shoulders and climbing the stairs, to the offices. There’s an entire row of doors and Arthur doesn’t even need to count them to know which one to stop in front of. The wood is thick, heavy oak and there are two name plates on it. The top one reads _Eames_ , while the one beneath is blank.

The door is locked, which means that there’s nobody inside. Glancing around, Arthur pulls a lock-pick from his pocket and works at the handle of the door, muttering a spell under his breath. It’s a typical Eames lock, something that requires just a little bit more than magic to get past.

The door swings open and Arthur flicks the light on. Half the room is an office, while the other half has a comfortable couch where the second desk should be.

Ignoring the couch, Arthur perches himself on the edge of the desk instead and waits.

It isn’t long before a voice at the door says, “While I’m flattered that you broke in, my drop-in hours are usually every Monday and Wednesday afternoon.”

“My mistake,” Arthur replies, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then.”

Eames is standing in the doorway, blocking it with his hands resting on the doorjamb. He grins at Arthur, “Oh, look at what the dogs dragged in.”

“Don’t pretend to be surprised. You knew I was here the moment Zephyr ran off.”

“I _was_ going to ask where your mutt was.”

Arthur folds his arms across his chest, “Well apparently he’s been kidnapped by yours.”

Eames laughs, stepping into the room. “C’mere, you bastard.”

Arthur goes, wrapping his arms around Eames and breathing him in. It’s been far too long. If Eames’ tight grip is anything to go by, he definitely agrees.

“You’re wearing cologne,” Arthur observes, not leaving Eames’ arms.

“Please. Why would I put cologne on just for you?”

With a small laugh, Arthur kisses the side of Eames’ neck. “You said it, not me.”

“I missed you,” Eames says, pulling back far enough to look into Arthur’s eyes. He doesn’t shy away from his feelings; he never has. “About time you wandered back home.”

Arthur smiles, but his heart isn’t entirely in it. “I’m not home for good. Not yet.”

“I suppose not,” Eames sighs. “Not with the way anyone who is half-decent at detecting magic can _feel_ it when Cobb comes close. I bet the white mages absolutely adore you two.”

“Locked doors wherever we go,” Arthur replies with a shrug. “Why do you think I turned to black magic?”

All traces of humour vanish from Eames’ expression. “And how is that going?”

“I can keep the Shade from showing up entirely,” Arthur is more than a little proud of that. “Provided I don’t have anything else to focus on. Which is why all of our jobs are going badly. I’m getting better at controlling her, but she’s getting stronger.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eames mutters angrily. “It is _never_ your fault.”

“Well either way,” Arthur sighs, holding the sides of Eames’ face, “We have another job and I’m going to need your help.”

This makes Eames raise an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to work with Cobb.”

“He was your mentor, Eames—”

“He _was_. I had the utmost respect for the man, right up until he tried to use black magic he had _no hope_ of controlling to resurrect his dead wife.”

Arthur winces at the reminder. It had been bad enough to lose Mal, but to have Cobb bring her back as a Shade was much worse. Eames has never forgiven Cobb for it and while Arthur manages to work around it most of the time, he’s occasionally reminded that he hasn’t quite forgiven Cobb either.

“I need you with me on this,” Arthur whispers. “It could be the one final job that fixes everything.”

“Miles already spoke to me about it,” Eames tells him, walking further into the office and getting the kettle boiling. Arthur sits on the edge of the desk again and Eames shakes his head, pulling his chair around to sit in front of him.

“Can’t you sit like a normal person?”

“Considering that this is actually _my_ desk? I’ll sit however I want.”

Pushing Arthur’s thighs apart, Eames pulls his chair closer and rests his head against Arthur’s chest. “You do that.”

Running a hand through Eames’ hair, Arthur glances at the door and locks it with a thought. “We can discuss work later.”

Humming in approval, Eames nuzzles into Arthur’s stomach. “Agreed.”

 

«·»

The next morning, Arthur wakes up in his and Eames’ bed, with the sunlight shining directly into his face and Eames’ arm heavy where it’s wrapped around his waist. It feels unbelievably good to be home.

He sits up, stretching and yawning as Eames slowly wakes. He’d meant to get some work done yesterday, but neither he nor Eames were particularly interested in staying apart for long enough to discuss work. Not that Arthur is particularly surprised; the actual schedule he’s drawn up in his moleskine only starts from today.

Ciaran and Zephyr are sleeping on the dog bed, pressed up against each other, and Arthur smiles. It’s a sight he’s sorely missed and seeing it now serves to remind him just how much he needs for all of the trouble to be over, for the Shade to be gone so that this can be a regular part of his life again, instead of just a brief respite.

He leaves Eames in bed for now, showering and getting dressed before making his way to Miles’ office.

Stephen Miles, Mal’s father, is the headmaster of the school and a close friend of Arthur’s. They’ve kept in regular contact, even while Arthur’s followed Cobb around in search for a way to dispel the Shade, especially to keep Miles appraised of their progress.

“Arthur,” Miles greets warmly when he enters the large office. “It’s good to see you after such a long time.”

“I hope you’ve been well,” Arthur says, taking a seat, “and the grandkids.”

“They’re safely away, visiting their grandmother,” Miles replies with a small smile. “Thank you for letting me know that Dom would be coming back here.”

“I’m assuming he’s already spoken to you?”

“Asked where the children were, assured me that he has my daughter’s Shade under control and told me that this job will fix everything, yes.” Miles sighs. “I’ve heard of Saito and I know that he is powerful enough to get his hands on an exorcist, but I don’t understand why he is so ready to help Dom.”

“They have a few things in common.” Arthur leas back in his chair and smooths a hand over his hair. “They’ve both made terrible mistakes that have cost them loved ones. I don’t have any solid information on Saito just yet, but…”

“You have a hunch,” Miles finishes. “And I’ve known you for over a decade, Arthur. Your instincts have always been sharp.”

“Saito understands being willing to do anything, no matter the risk, to fix something. I believe that this solidarity with Dom is a strong enough driving force for him. Saito is a man with honour and if he’s promised something, he will follow through with it.”

“Do you have a plan for this job, then?” Miles asks. “There’s a lot riding on this going successfully. Not something I’d be terribly keen on leaving to Dom.”

Arthur smiles, shaking his head. “You’re right about that. I’ve already asked Eames to help. I still need to find others. I already have a few people in mind.”

“As organised and efficient as ever,” Miles nods approvingly. “Mal would be proud of you, Arthur. The real Mal.”

Bowing his head, Arthur doesn’t bother to hide his sadness. “That’s all I can hope for.”

Eames is awake and dressed when Arthur returns to their room. He’s sitting in bed with a mug of coffee, another one resting on the bedside table, and Arthur kisses his forehead in greeting as he picks up the second mug.

“Visit Miles, did you?” Eames asks, pulling Arthur closer with a hand on his hip.

Humming in the affirmative, Arthur rests a hand on Eames’ head. “I still need to finish putting a team together. It needs to be the best team possible, if we’re going to pull this job off properly.”

“So you need people talented enough to work around Cobb,” Eames murmurs, taking a long sip of his coffee. “I’ll have to introduce you to the new student I’m mentoring, then. Bright young thing. Miles would be mentoring her himself if he wasn’t so busy running the school.”

“Is that so?” Arthur tilts his head in thought. “Sounds like someone we could definitely use. And if we’re after someone to bring stability to a job where we’ll have a lot of mages working together…”

“…Yusuf is the best at that,” Eames finishes with a nod.

Back when Arthur and Eames were students at the Institute, Yusuf was Eames’ smoking buddy. They’d skip class, never study, and Arthur would be incredibly frustrated when they both managed to maintain good marks despite their apparent apathy. Yusuf has an instinctive understanding of magic, which makes him invaluable when trying to combine different spells. He seems to know just how to fit them together for the best possible result and the most stable spells always result from his involvement.

“We’ll have a meeting this afternoon, then,” Arthur decides. “Call Yusuf and bring your student. I’ll make sure the Shade remains under control.”

Eames huffs quietly. “That shouldn’t have to be your responsibility.”

“Well, Dom doesn’t actually know that it is,” Arthur replies mildly.

“You think that makes it any better?” Eames growls.

“I know it doesn’t. I don’t like it either, you know that, but it’s necessary.”

“Of course,” Eames sighs. “But the meeting won’t be until after lunch, right? I have no intention of letting you out of my sight until then.”

Grinning, Arthur sets his empty mug down on the bedside table. “I don’t have any problems with that.”

 

«·»

“Oh, so you’re the reason it feels like a dark cloud’s just settled over the school.”

Within a minute of meeting Ariadne, Eames’ new student, Arthur decides that he likes her.

Cobb, on the other hand, is at a loss for words. He stares at her and finally manages to say, “I’m sorry…?”

Ariadne has already moved on, looking at Arthur next. There’s a squirrel sitting on her shoulder—Greta, as she’d been introduced—and both sets of eyes seem to scrutinize Arthur closely before Ariadne nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re Arthur. Eames has told me lots about you.”

“All of it wildly exaggerated, no doubt,” Arthur replies, shaking her hand.

Glancing over her shoulder at Eames, Ariadne says, “I realise it’s highly subjective, but he doesn’t really have the face or voice of an angel.”

“ _Eames_ ,” Arthur protests, at the same time Eames says, “ _Ariadne_.”

Yusuf laughs, rising from his seat. Malik, his tabby cat familiar, immediately jumps into the warm spot left behind. “This is going to be a fun team, isn’t it?”

Once all the introductions are out of the way, they sit around in a circle while Dom takes the lead, outlining the job to them. Saito sits in the corner, removed from the planning but still impossible to ignore.

“We need to plant an idea in Fischer’s mind,” Dom tells them, “and we need to make sure that it _sticks_. This close to his father’s death, there’s going to be too much turmoil in his mind to influence him properly. We need to wait until the dust has settled a bit, but not completely. If we give him something to focus on, he needs to accept it readily, so he has something to think about other than his father and having to take over the company.”

“That’s not vague at all.” Eames sounds clearly impressed, raising an eyebrow at Dom. “And how do you suppose we divine this perfect time window?”

“It’s not as difficult as you’re making it sound,” Dom replies with a frown. “We need Fischer to be mentally sound but still emotionally vulnerable. We’ll get him shortly after his father’s funeral.”

It makes sense and even Eames has to concede this. He nods, backing down, but keeps a proprietary hand resting on the back of Arthur’s chair.

“So you’re saying we need a plan ready to be executed by the time of Fischer’s funeral,” Arthur speaks up, taking notes in his moleskine.

“That doesn’t really give us a lot of time, does it?” Ariadne asks.

“Not really,” Arthur frowns. “Maurice Fischer could die any day now. We’ll need to have everything planned as soon as possible.”

“We’ll have to see if we can find a way to grab him straight after the funeral,” Dom decides.

Eames lets out a low whistle. “Really, Cobb? You’re going to grab him right after his father’s funeral and break into his mind?”

“You’re going to argue about morality with me?” Dom challenges. “Really? After everything _you’ve_ done?”

“Hey, I might be a conman when the situation calls for it, but I’m not a heartless _bastard_.”

“How dare you.” Dom’s eyes flash dangerously. “I have a heart. I have to deal with it slowly being torn apart every day the Shade haunts me—”

“No, I’m fairly certain you gave up your heart when you decided to ruin the memory of Mal by attempting a spell you had no hope of pulling off.” Eames rises to his feet, drawing his shoulders up to look as intimidating as possible. Even Zephyr, sitting behind Eames’ chair, begins to growl.

Arthur exchanges a weary look with Yusuf before getting up, placing a hand on Eames’ shoulder and pushing him back down into his chair. He turns on Dom with a frown. “You both need to calm down. Repeating old arguments won’t get us anywhere. We’ll use the rest of this meeting to sort out what we need to do individually and we’ll meet again later to update each other on our progress. If either of you start arguing again…”

“What?” Dom asks, “You’ll walk away?”

“For fuck’s sake, Cobb, shut up,” Eames mutters. “Even I know better than to piss Arthur off. And if _I_ can’t get away with it, you don’t stand a chance. Not with everything else you’re putting him through.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dom asks, scowling.

Arthur sighs loudly. “ _Enough_. We’re going to start planning all over again and if either of you get off-topic, I’m cursing you both to lose your voices for an entire week. You can see how well the job will go then.”

In the silence that follows, Arthur nods and sits back down. Ariadne is giving him a sympathetic smile and he grimaces in return. She probably knows just how stubborn Eames can be when he wants.

This is going to be a long, tedious job. Arthur can feel it already.

 

«·»

That night, Eames is noticeably cautious around Arthur. They eat their dinner in near-silence and Eames keeps his hands to himself, until they’re walking through the grounds afterwards and Arthur reaches out, linking their fingers.

“You’re quiet. It’s unsettling. Don’t tell me you’re actually feeling _sorry_ , now. Who are you and what have you done with my unashamed, unapologetic partner?”

Eames smiles, but it’s strained. “We haven’t worked together for a little over a year. And the first thing I do is piss you off.”

“No, the first thing you did was agree to help me when I needed you,” Arthur corrects. He squeezes Eames’ hand. “Even when that meant working with someone you don’t get along with.”

Eames gives Arthur a half-smile. “If Cobb’s good for one thing, then it’s the fact that he’s made you a hell of a lot more patient with me.”

“You used to like him once, you know,” Arthur points out. “Not that long ago. You even respected him.”

“That was before,” Eames replies simply, his arm coming around Arthur’s waist possessively. “He might have been a good man. Hell, he used to be a _genius_ , I’ll admit that much. But these days? He’s just insane.”

Arthur sighs quietly and that’s all the agreement Eames needs.

“I’m sorry, love,” Eames murmurs, kissing Arthur’s forehead. “I didn’t want to be right about it, but there’s no other way of looking at it.”

“We should have been more careful after Mal died,” Arthur mutters, shaking his head.

They’d both been concerned that the madness that had ultimately caused he death had also taken root in Dom’s mind. It had been impossible to tell what was madness and what was Dom’s grief for his dead wife, so they’d decided to wait. They’d both been distracted with their own sadness and that was all it took for Dom to slip away, his desperation pushing him towards attempting the impossible.

Arthur spends a lot of time thinking about it and most of the time, he blames himself. Luckily for him, he has Eames around this time to knock some sense into him.

He literally raps his knuckles on Arthur’s head. “Oi, stop that now. We couldn’t have known and we had our own problems to deal with. Remember, if you’re blaming yourself, you’re blaming me. You know how I get when people blame me for things that aren’t my fault.”

This makes Arthur laugh quietly. “I’ve seen how you get when people blame you for things that _are_ your fault. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Of course I am. And I do _not_ want to hear you apologizing. Not to me, and certainly not to Dominick Cobb. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Arthur can no longer resist the urge to step into Eames’ space, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him deeply. Eames hums happily, kissing back and pulling away with a grin.

“There. Much more preferable to talking about the walking train wreck, hm?”

“I’m taking you to bed,” Arthur declares, “because I _still_ haven’t stopped missing you. And because there’s a very real chance that sex will make you _shut up_.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Eames grins. “Can I show off my newest teleportation spell?”

Arthur doesn’t even get the chance to reply before Eames is moving them. One moment they’re standing in each other’s arms and the next, they’re on top of each other in their bed.

“Straight to the point,” Arthur says approvingly, working on the buttons of Eames’ shirt.

“Thought you’d like it,” Eames replies, sucking a mark onto Arthur’s neck as they undress each other.

“Mm, I do.” Arthur straddles Eames once they’re naked, hands spread out on that broad chest. “Fuck, I will never get enough of this.”

With a grin, Eames pulls him down into a messy kiss. “Well, if I have it my way, you’ll get as much as you want.”

 

«·»

They sleep in the next morning. The bed is warm and comfortable, and Eames has managed to wrap himself completely around Arthur over the course of the night.

They both have reputations for being absolutely ruthless if the situation calls for it. Anyone who has worked with one or both of them would be able to confirm it; when they’re working, they’re not going to allow anything to come before the job. They treat each other the same as everyone else and Arthur knows that this is exactly what they’re going to have to do on this job. He decides that he really can’t be blamed for wanting to stay in Eames’ arms a little longer.

Eames blinks awake as Arthur leaves a trail of kisses down his neck and they both smile at each other in greeting.

Arthur’s just about to suggest another round of sex when someone knocks loudly on their door. With an irritated growl, Eames yells, “Piss off, Cobb.”

“It’s not Cobb,” Ariadne replies through the door. “But he sent me to let you know that Fischer senior is dead.”

“Shit.” Arthur is already out of bed, pulling his clothes on. “We need to get moving soon.”

Eames nods, getting up as well. He pulls his pants on, not protesting when Arthur does his shirt up for him. Arthur is already stressed and Eames knows him well enough to see this. Holding Arthur still, Eames kisses him softly and whispers, “We’ll be fine.”

“You decent yet?” Ariadne calls through the door.

Arthur turns the handle, opening the door to find Ariadne leaning against the opposite wall. From the state of her hair to the large mug of coffee in her hands, it’s clear that she’d woken in a rush as well. Greta is curled up on her shoulder, still half-asleep.

“Let’s go.” Arthur pats the side of his leg and Ciaran follows him, Zephyr tagging behind.

“Are we really going to do this?” Eames asks reluctantly.

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you’ve found your conscience now, of all times.”

“It’s not that. I’m just not very keen on letting Cobb do any kind of magic. We all know that he’s mentally unstable, but you should know that his magic is even worse.”

“His magic?” Ariadne asks.

“Emilie isn’t his familiar,” Arthur explains. “She was Mal’s. Dom’s familiar died along with Mal, so he’s been using Emilie to stabilize his magic. It works better than it _should_ , because Dom and Mal were so intertwined with each other, but there’s a good reason that I tend to find us jobs where he uses as little magic as possible. And on top of that, the Shade always feels stronger when he tries to use magic.”

Ariadne frowns in thought as they walk, clearly considering this. They’re almost at the meeting room when she stops, pulling Arthur and Eames aside.

“We can’t let Cobb on the job,” she says seriously.

“What do you mean?” Arthur frowns. “This is _his_ job. He’s the one who will benefit from everything going well. He’s not going to sit this out.”

“He’ll have to,” Ariadne declares. “I don’t know how I missed it before, but it’s not _Cobb_ who gives off the dark aura of the Shade. You know the feeling you get when you’re in the same room as him and you can tell the Shade is there too? That pressure at the back of your mind?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow at Eames. “I thought you said she was a _student_.”

“A bright student,” Eames replies, but even he looks puzzled. “Ariadne, sensing things with that amount of precision usually takes _years_.”

Ariadne shrugs. “It’s always come pretty natually to me. My point is, Cobb isn’t the one that gives me that feeling. It’s Emilie.”

Both Arthur and Eames fall silent, not knowing how to reply. Finally, Arthur clears his throat and says, “Emilie…?”

“The part of Mal’s soul that’s still alive,” Ariadne says. “You can feel Ciaran or Zephyr when you’re not right near them, right?”

“You’re saying that the Shade is haunting Cobb because he’s holding onto Emilie,” Eames murmurs, nodding slowly. “If we do this job with him, she will show up and ruin everything. That’s pretty much guaranteed at this point.”

Arthur frowns, leaning against the wall. “So what do we do?”

“We’ll do the job anyway,” Eames replies. “You can’t afford to upset Saito at this point and you can’t tell me you’ve missed the fact that this entire thing is about some kind of reconcilliation with Fischer. This is a man who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. That means that provided he _gets_ what he wants, he won’t care how we do it.”

“You already have an alternative plan,” Arthur says, not even surprised.

“Ariadne, you’re going to stay here and keep Cobb distracted. Arthur and I will take the others and complete the job. Cobb’s plan is effective, but it’s absolute bonkers. We’ll keep it simple, do what we need to do, and we’ll be out of there before anyone gets suspicious. Nice and easy.”

“Wait, you’re benching me? Not cool.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort. You’ve got an important job to do right here. You know that Emilie is the reason the Shade is still hanging around. We don’t need to find an exorcist. We just need to get rid of the bird.”

“Get rid of it? I am not kiling someone’s familiar!” Ariadne looks horrified. Among mages, there is no crime more severe than that.

“You don’t need to _kill_ her,” Arthur says quickly, placing a hand on Ariadne’s shoulder to calm her down. “The important thing is to get Dom to stop using her for his magic. You’ve already proven yourself to be more than capable of thinking on your feet. We’ll leave it up to you, however you want to do it. What we need right now is to do this job _without_ him. If he’s still relying on Emilie by the time we return… well, Saito did promise to get Dom an exorcist.”

Ariadne wrinkles her nose. “I hate to add to the stigma surrounding black magc, but I don’t think an exorcism is going to be pleasant. For _anyone_ involved. I’ll see if I can come up with a better option.”

Eames nods. “You do that. For now? We’ve got a job to take over and a plan to rip to shreds. Cobb is going to be incredibly pissed off.”

He walks to the door of the meeting rom with a bounce in his step and Arthur follows, grinning even as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to be so _happy_ about it.”

 

«·»

One surprisingly short argument later, Eames is teleporting them across entire continents. Yusuf and Arthur are both used to the feel of Eames’ magic, but Saito looks disoriented when they materialise in the hotel room that Arthur had arranged for them earlier.

Dom had predictably taken issue with being kicked off his own job, but Eames has never been the type to back down. They’d argued until Saito had put his foot down, declaring that he would go along with Eames’ new plan. Saito had never said it outright, but it’s clear that even he had been worried by what he’d seen of Dom. He looks much calmer now, secure in the knowledge that with the Shade so far-removed, there are fewer things that will threaten this job’s success.

With a loud yawn, Malik hops up into one of the chairs and curls into a ball. Yusuf strokes ahead over his cat’s fur and nods in apparent agreement to something unsaid. “Yes, we still have several hours until the funeral, don’t we?”

“We need to grab Fischer _before_ ,” Eames tells them. “He’ll be seeking comfort and that’s the best time for us to come in. We don’t need to be subtle about it; Fischer senior was a mage, so I’m sure his son will know magic when he feels it. If we do our job correctly, that shouldn’t matter.”

Saito nods in agreement, standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He seems lost in thought and Arthur isn’t particularly keen on disturbing him. Instead, he checks his watch, adjusting it for the time difference.

“Three hours before Fischer is due to arrive at the funeral parlour.”

Eames nods. “We’ll move in two hours and aim to intercept him before he gets into his car. Let our work take its effect during the drive and then we can test whether or not it worked.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Yusuf asks.

Eames shrugs. “Then we try again. As many times as we need. It doesn’t matter how many times Fischer sees me when I can just shift into someone else.”

Saito turns away from the window, “But you are sure that you will be successful.”

“I’ve done my research,” Arthur replies. “Going off what I have, Fischer should be compliant.”

“I hope you are right.” For once, Saito doesn’t sound confident or threatening. He sounds lonely, and it reminds Arthur that unless this is all fixed, unless the Shade is gone—one way or another—this will be his fate too.

“So do I,” he replies quietly, managing a small smile when Eames touches his elbow.

The two hours pass quicker than Arthur expects. He hates waiting for a job to begin and it usually drags on, but it feels different this time. It probably has something to do with the fact that this could very likely be the end; the end of all the running and hiding and cleaning up Dom’s messes. It might just mean that he can go back to living an actual life. Arthur can tell that Eames is thinking the same thing; it’s clear in the way Eames is watching him, nervous and excited all at once.

“Are you ready to go?” Arthur asks, checking his watch one last time.

Eames kisses him, soft and lingering. “Let’s do this.”

Between Arthur and Eames, approaching Fischer is no problem at all. Eames is particularly skilled at shapeshifting and he’s done his research well enough to make a convincing copy of Fischer’s godfather. Wearing the face of Peter Browning, he draws Fischer away from his security guards and towards the rest of the group.

If Eames’ talents lie in shapeshifting, Arthur’s specific skill is making sure that he can move about undetected. He can cover trails to the point where they are untraceable, and he can make all of them invisible to everyone else.

The easiest way to spot a mage in public is by their familiar. Ciaran, Zephyr and Malik all sit silently, ready to assist their owners when needed, completely unnoticed by everyone else.

“Yusuf,” Arthur mutters under his breath, watching Eames approach with Fischer, “get ready.”

Yusuf nods in reply, his hands in his pockets to hide the way they glow as he begins melding Arthur’s magic with Eames’. There’s an odd feeling in the back of Arthur’s mind and he exchanges a look with Eames. They nod at each other and at the same time, they turn their focus to Fischer with one command: _sleep_.

Eames loops an arm around Fischer’s shoulders to hide the way he suddenly slumps. Another step forward, and Arthur extends his invisibility to cover all of them.

“Alright,” Arthur says, moving to help Eames lift Fischer. “We don’t have a lot of time before someone notices Fischer’s missing. We need to move.”

There’s a van parked down the street, hidden from everyone else’s view and Arthur leads the way towards it. Saito is sitting inside, sliding the door open for them.

“We have ten minutes, max,” Arthur tells them. “That’s two hours in a standard dream. Yusuf’s going to stretch it out for longer.”

“Just over three hours,” Yusuf confirms, buckling his seatbelt and making room for Malik on his lap.

“Better make those three hours count,” Eames says to Saito, setting Fischer down between Arthur and himself. “Arthur’s the dreamer. He’ll pull the rest of us in. Just one dream level. Nothing complicated. Remember the plan.”

Making sure that his spell on the van will linger, Arthur shuts his eyes, and begins to dream.

 

«·»

“How do you suppose it’s going?”

Arthur looks up as Eames approaches. They stand beside each other, shoulders brushing as they look across the room, to where Fischer is standing, speaking with Saito.

“I bugged them. You wanna listen?”

Laughing, Eames shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

“This _is_ my dream,” Arthur replies simply.

“That it is,” Eames murmurs, his gaze wandering over Arthur appreciatively.

Arthur’s designed the dream as a formal function; somewhere that Saito would realistically run into Fischer. It means that everyone is dressed sharply, and Eames has always had a particular appreciation for Arthur in tuxedos.

This particular dream design may not have been made specifically because of this, but it’s definitely an added bonus.

“So what are they saying?” Eames finally asks, resting his hand on Arthur’s waist. “It looks promising from here.”

“When they were both younger,” Arthur tells him, “they had a… secret relationship.”

“Oh, an _affair_.” Eames sounds delighted.

Arthur rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. “Right. Except then Maurice found out and… Saito just disappeared right out of Robert’s life. To protect the interests of his company. It worked out for him, but…”

“The regret,” Eames finished, nodding in understanding. “That’s what this entire job was about.”

“We didn’t need to break into Fischer’s mind at all,” Arthur murmurs, leaning into Eames’ warmth. “All Saito had to do was apologise.”

“Well,” Eames murmurs, sounding impressed as they watch Saito touch Fischer’s cheek, pecking him lightly on the lips. “That definitely worked out.”

Arthur nods, satisfied. “Thanks to your planning.”

Eames chuckles. “Do you remember when we were younger? And getting praise from you was like drawing water from a stone?”

Arthur shoves him playfully. “Only because it was just as rare for you to actually have a good idea.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I love you too,” Arthur murmurs, giving Eames a fond smile before turning back to Saito and Fischer. “We’re done here. Let’s leave before Yusuf drinks his way through the entire bar.”

“Your fault for making it an open tab,” Eames replies, kissing Arthur’s forehead. “I’ll go find him. See you up on the surface.”

“See you soon.”

Arthur is the last to wake from the dream, with the exception of Fischer, who is still knocked out from the previous spell. Saito looks satisfied, nodding at Arthur when their gazes meet, confirming that the job is done.

“One final part left,” Eames speaks up, back in the form of Peter Browning. “We’ll get Fischer back to his people, and then we’ll have to see how he’s reacted to the dream. Arthur, you’re with me. Yusuf and Saito, you start making your way to the funeral parlour. We’ll meet you there.”

“Ciaran. Zephyr.” Arthur calls both dogs to heel, helping Eames carry Fischer out of the car.

“I can’t believe this worked,” Arthur mutters as they walk past the security guards with Fischer supported between them.

“Simplicity is important. That’s something Cobb tends to forget,” Eames replies.

Fischer’s limousine is parked by the curb and they carry him into it. The sleeping spell is beginning to wear off; Fischer begins shifting in his sleep and that’s their cue to leave. Soon, Fischer will be awake and on his way to the funeral. Arthur and Eames need to be there too, but they still have some time.

“Fancy a walk?” Eames asks, offering Arthur his hand.

Arthur grins at the way that both their dogs perk up at the word. He takes Eames’ hand and squeezes it. He’s certain that the job’s worked. From now on, this is going to be a regular part of his day. It’s an amazing thought.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll walk.”

Once they’re out of sight, Arthur drops the invisibility spell. He keeps an eye on the time; they have a good half hour and once that time has passed, Arthur glances at Eames. With a small nod, Eames teleports them the few remaining blocks.

Yusuf and Saito are standing in front of the van, and while Saito doesn’t look any less composed than normal, Arthur is certain that the man is nervous. There is a lot riding on this moment, and Arthur has a feeling that the benefits of having Fischer-Morrow combine with Proclus Global are the last thing on Saito’s mind at the moment.

“Almost there,” Eames says cheerfully, patting Saito on the shoulder. “We’ll be watching from a distance, ready to intervene should anything go wrong. I doubt you’ll need us. Once we’re sure that everything has gone according to plan, we’ll leave. I trust you’ll keep in touch?”

Saito nods. “Of course. I’ll stop by the Institute as soon as I am available.”

“Time to get in our places,” Arthur announces, consulting his watch for the last time. “Good luck, Mr. Saito.”

There’s a rooftop just nearby that overlooks the front of the funeral parlous. Eames teleports the three of them there while Saito waits at the gates. Less than a minute later, Fischer’s limousine is pulling up, right on schedule. Arthur watches intently as Fischer gets out of the car. Even at this distance, it’s clear that he’s lost in thought. Arthur can pinpoint the moment Fischer sees Saito; he goes very still and for the longest moment, he doesn’t move at all. Then, one tentative step at a time, he walks forward, stopping right in front of him. There’s a short exchange of words that makes Arthur wish that he’d cast a listening spell, but then the two of them are wrapping their arms around each other, holding on tightly.

Eames sighs, visibly relaxing, and that is when Arthur realises that they’d been squeezing each other’s hands. Flexing his fingers, he laughs quietly, looking at Yusuf and then at Eames. “Shall we?”

Eames nods, looking down at where Saito is standing with Robert. Arthur looks as well, just in time to catch the way Saito glances up in their direction.

“Let’s go,” Eames says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good work, boys.”

 

«·»

The first thing Arthur notices when they return home is that the dark, oppressive feeling he’s grown accustomed to is gone.

“Huh.” Yusuf clearly notices it too, frowning at Arthur. “Do you feel that? Or… not feel it? What’s going on?”

Eames is already leading the way towards Dom’s old office. “It means the Shade is gone.”

“But Saito is still with Fischer—”

“It’s Ariadne,” Arthur answers, picking up his pace. “She did it.”

“I knew she would,” Eames murmurs, proud of his student. “She’s a natural. Just took us all a while to realise exactly what she’s a natural at.”

“Imagine what this means for the school,” Arthur says excitedly. “Give her a few years and she’ll be teaching her own classes. We’ll be the first grey mage school that has a specialised white mage.”

“If she decides to stay here, that is,” Eames replies. “She could want to do something else entirely. The choice is hers.”

“Listen to you,” Yusuf chuckles. “Talking like you’re her _parents_.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Eames with one of his classes.” Arthur, who used to teach along with Eames, knows exactly how bad he can get. “He treats every class like a little brood. Ariadne’s probably his favourite kid at this point.”

“You know it.” Ariadne is standing in front of Dom’s office, arms folded across her chest. “What do I call you? Other-Dad?”

“Mum,” Eames supplies, grinning when Arthur elbows him. “What are you doing here, Ariadne?”

“Waiting for you,” she replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Figured you’d come looking for Cobb, but he’s not in his office. He’s going to need a bit more effort to find from now on.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur frowns as he follows Ariadne down the hall and out into the courtyard.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Arthur is about to question her further, but the sight before him makes him stop in his tracks. Dom is sitting on a bench, looking healthier and happier than he has since Mal’s death. Emilie is conspicuously absent and more importantly, he’s with his children.

James and Phillipa are clambering all over him, excitedly telling him their recounts of everything he’s missed. Both Miles and Marie are sitting some distance awake, watching on with visible relief.

“What did you do?” Eames asks, his voice hushed with wonder, “And _how_?”

“White magic,” Arthur answers, looking at Ariadne, who smiles and nods to confirm it.

“I didn’t really know that it was, at the time… but apparently that’s how I’m so good at detecting magic, too. I just thought that everyone did it. Same with this.”

Dom notices them then and waves. He say something to his children, sending them off to their grandparents before approaching them.

“Well?” From all the jobs Arthur’s even done, he can’t remember Dom ever being _this_ relaxed about the outcome. “How did it go?”

“Brilliantly. Saito said everything he needed to say and, apparently, everything Fischer needed to hear. Though something tells me you don’t really need that exorcist any more.”

Dom smiles, looking between Eames and Arthur. “I don’t, thanks to Ariadne. Though I have a feeling she wasn’t working on her own.”

“It was mostly Ariadne’s doing,” Eames replies. “She deserves most of the credit.”

“I found one of the textbooks Cobb wrote about dream magic,” Ariadne says, sounding pleased. “It took me a while to get my head around it, but…”

“She’s selling herself short,” Dom interrupts, and Arthur hasn’t seen that gleam in Dom’s eyes since his teaching days. “She constructed a dream all on her own. You should have seen her build, she was so fast and so intuitive. Just like… like…”

“Like Mal?” Arthur asks softly, and Dom manages a small nod.

“She built a dream, because she knew that I would respond to it. She knew it would be comforting, that my mind would be open. Ariadne told me what I needed to hear. She told me that Emilie was the reason the Shade wouldn’t leave.” A sad look flickers across Dom’s face before it’s gone again. “As comforting as it was to have Emilie with me, Ariadne made me realise that I had to let her go. Not just Emilie but… Mal. I couldn’t keep her around, especially not like that. I had to do whatever I could to fix it, so I told Emilie that it was time to go. That I was sorry I couldn’t bring Mal back. That I would be fine here, on my own now.”

“You’re not really alone anyway,” Ariadne adds with a small smile. “You’ve had Arthur all this time. And Eames. And your kids.”

“That’s right. I might not be able to do magic any more, but I’ve got my family to take care of, now. I’m going to be a proper father, and make up for all the time that I spent away from my kids. Miles said that I can still live near the school, so I won’t be far away.” With a hopeful look, Cobb turns to Eames. “I know you haven’t been very impressed with me lately, but if I can make up for that, too…”

Eames nods, gripping Dom’s shoulder tightly. “That sounds good.”

“And Yusuf,” Dom adds, “With me gone, Miles is going to need a new teacher. With Arthur back and teaching along with Eames…”

“You’re just going to add more fuel to the fire,” Arthur finishes. “I had classes with these two. Trust me, Yusuf’s not going to make things any calmer around here.”

“Oh, I remember.” Dom smirks. “But it’s not going to be my problem any more, is it? Besides, once Ariadne starts teaching too, the Miles Institute is going to have an even better reputation than before. Three teachers who are the leading authorities in their respective types of magic _and_ a white mage.”

“I see that you’ve already planned out her future too,” Eames shakes his head. “What if Ariadne wants to do something else entirely?”

“Eames, you are the sweetest.” Ariadne hugs him. “I was talking to Cobb about it though, and it does sound pretty fun. I might change my mind later, or I might not. I’ll just take things as they come, I guess.”

Arthur nods approvingly, and Eames does too.

“Will I need a different mentor, though?” Ariadne asks, her expression making it clear just how much she dislikes the thought. “Do I have to learn with an actual white mage now?”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Arthur replies with a small smile. “As mages, we’re not actually limited to learning just one type of magic. It takes more effort to control different types at once, but I’m sure you’ll manage it just fine. Besides, Eames is one of the most versatile mages I know.”

“We can learn white magic together while I train you in the subtleties of grey magic. I promise my ego won’t be _too_ badly wounded when your skills start overtaking mine.”

“Lies, filthy lies,” Arthur deadpans.

Ariadne grins. “This is going to be fun.”

Arthur looks at Dom, noticing the way he intermittently glances back at his children. With a warm smile, he nods in their direction. “Go. Spend time with your kids. We can always catch up later.”

Dom’s expression brightens immediately and he nods at Arthur, glancing at the rest of the group before going back to Phillipa and James.

“I still can’t believe it,” Arthur murmurs, watching them. He feels Eames’ and on his back and turns to look at him. “It’s over. We’re actually home.”

“Yes you are,” Eames replies, kissing his forehead, “and I don’t plan on letting you leave any time soon. I’ll tie you down if I have to.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Aaaand that’s our cue to leave,” Yusuf declares. “Come on, Ariadne. You know that café just down the road?”

“The one with the blue door that’s way bigger on the inside?”

“Yes, exactly. I haven’t had lunch yet. Let’s go.”

Arthur watches them leave with a small grin before his gaze returns to Eames. “We should probably go elsewhere too.”

“You’re thinking the same thing I am, aren’t you?” Eames asks with a grin. At Arthur’s answering smirk, Eames squeezes his arm. “You _are_. There’s a good reason I love you so much.”

“Just one?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hush, you.” Eames kisses him again. “The last time I actually started listing all the reasons, you smacked me until I stopped.”

“We were in front of my _parents_ ,” Arthur points out, his ears burning at the memory, “and I knew what part of the list you were getting to. They didn’t need to hear it.”

Eames grins toothily, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s waist. “I’m teleporting you to our room and not letting you leave for _days_.”

“Oh, no. That sounds _terrible_. However will I survive?”

Eames laughs, whistling for Zephyr and Ciaran. “I’m sure you’ll manage somehow.”

 

«·»

Saito drops by two days later, with an air of satisfaction about him. Fischer is not with him, but Arthur has been following the news and has also been tracking both of them through his own information network. He knows that since Saito had shown up at Maurice Fischer’s funeral, Robert hasn’t left his side. The last Arthur’s heard, Fischer is at Saito’s mansion, waiting for him.

Still, it’s reassuring to have Saito here, clearly pleased with the job they’ve done. He can feel the same sentiment coming off Eames, when they both sit down with Saito for tea.

“This is a better outcome than I could have hoped for, when I approached you and Cobb,” Saito remarks, sipping from his tea. “I had thought I would need to manufacture Robert’s trust and then regain his affections later. You’ve made it much simpler.”

“Placing artificial thoughts in people’s minds is… well, morally troublesome, but aside from that, it’s only one way of dealing with things. The better option is to go with genuine feelings without overcomplicating it. I trust that you’ll remember that for the future.”

Saito smiles. “Of course. And I trust that I may call on you for assistance, should I need your expertise in the future?”

Upon discovering that Dom no longer needed an exorcist, Saito had seen to it that they’d all been paid handsomely. Arthur certainly doesn’t mind making that kind of money again, but he also knows that he has no actual use for it.

“As much as we’d love to, neither of us plan on leaving the Institute for any stretch of time in the near future,” he says, finding Eames’ hand under the table. “I’m sure that you and Fischer need some time together after all that’s happened. You’ll understand that we need the same.”

“But by all means,” Eames adds, “if there’s a job you’d like us to consider, do let us know. Provided we have the option to turn it down. Our priority is the school, now.”

“Of course,” Saito nods. “That is acceptable.”

Finishing their tea, they part ways and Eames leads the way back up to their room. He stops outside, grinning at Arthur before turning the handle. “I have plans for us.”

“Really?” Arthur raises an eyebrow as he’s ushered into the room. He looks around and laughs, “We’re going to dream, aren’t we?”

Eames curses under his breath. “You can always tell.”

“It’s the only time you ever make the bed,” Arthur points out. “You have some pretty obvious tells once anyone gets to know you well enough. Once _I_ did, anyway. I’m perfectly happy being the only one.”

“You’re also the only one who can see right through my disguises when I shapeshift. I rather like that.”

Eames is also the only one who sees through Arthur’s invisibility spells without even trying. Dom and Mal shared something similar and Mal had declared that they were two halves on one whole. Arthur can’t help but the think that she was onto something.

Eames watches him with a smile as they both lie down beside each other, Ciaran and Zephyr settling at their feet. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” Arthur smiles, turning onto his side. “Just like—”

“—old times,” he finishes, once they’re in the dream.

Eames is the one building it, and if the landscape around them doesn’t make it immediately obvious, the way he dresses Arthur does. Arthur rarely wears three-piece suits, but Eames loves dressing him in them. Eames’ own clothing is even louder than what he wears in reality; a clash of patterns and colours that work together only because this is a dream.

“This place hasn’t changed at all, has it?” Arthur marvels, looking around.

The ground is made of uneven rock and there are clouds hanging low in the sky. Right in the middle, there’s an old, battered couch with a small table and a lamp beside it. They’re the only things in the otherwise desolate area, but Arthur and Eames had discovered a long time ago that it’s all they need.

Ciaran and Zephyr are in the dream too and they run forward, recognising their surroundings. There’s an ottoman beside the couch big enough for both of them and they’ve already curled up on it by the time Arthur and Eames reach them.

“Of course it hasn’t,” Eames replies, sitting on the couch and pulling Arthur down beside him. “It’s been the same as ever, just waiting for us to come back.”

“Took longer than expected,” Arthur murmurs, his gaze downcast.

“Hey, don’t think like that. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Eames conjures up a bottle of scotch and two tumblers, pressing one into Arthur’s hand. “We’re not brooding today. We’re celebrating.”

Arthur lets Eames pour him a drink, taking a sip as Eames pours for himself as well.

“Do you think,” Arthur wonders aloud, “if we were in Saito’s position, we’d do what he did?”

Eames looks up. “You mean, would I do anything and everything to be reunited with you? Without a second thought.”

“Saito was willing to plant an idea in Fischer’s mind, just to have him back.”

“ _And_ for the financial benefit,” Eames points out. “Saito is… a very different man to either of us. We weren’t raised to expect anything we wanted on a silver platter. But Arthur, do I need to point out that you taught yourself black magic for the sole purpose of coming back home as soon as possible? To me, that definitely seems like you’d do just about anything in your power. Provided you don’t hurt yourself in any way, this is all I can ask for, and _more_.”

“Why do you think I could see through Saito’s job request so easily?” Arthur asks with a quiet laugh. He presses his lips lightly to Eames’ and doesn’t move away when he speaks. “I just recognised another man who was desperate to go _home_. Back to the heart of the one he loved. That’s all he wanted and I knew, because it was all I could think of too.”

“Oh, love.” Eames kisses him, slow and tender. “You’re home now.”

“Yeah.” Arthur shuts his eyes, leaning into Eames’ warm bulk. “I know. I’m home.”


End file.
